


One More Thing Before I Go

by Sab



Series: Post-"Amor Fati" [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: (Uploaded by Punk), Episode s07e02: Amor Fati, Gen, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-15
Updated: 1999-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Sab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the thing. (Uploaded by Punk, from you guys are just fucked.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Thing Before I Go

**Author's Note:**

> For M. Sebasky and Kelly Keil, this time, for upping the stakes. And for Phillipa, even though we're too late.
> 
> And, as always, for Aurora.

And the door shuts behind me as I've turned away and his footsteps disappear farther off somewhere into his apartment and the whole long clacking of my shoes down the hallway stretches out in front of me and the elevator takes forever, I know, it always does, and it's nice out, objectively good old indian summer nice out and I'm parked illegally and I really should get back to work, I really have to get back to work, now, I really do have a lot to do, now, I do, really. 

And I'm not just hiding behind everything that's happened, and I'm not just distracting myself from everything we've talked about and everything we've seen. I swear. My cup runneth over; I am overcome. But we're cleaning the slate, here, we're at square one, we're at block a, reboot, rehaul, redo, let's start again, side by side. Allegedly. 

But there's just one more thing, before I go.

Not a thing I'd say out loud, not because I'm afraid of how you'll react but because somehow saying it out loud makes it real, means I'm copping to it, means I can't plead the fifth later on down the line when they've Mirandized me and my hands are cuffed behind my back and I'm trying to remember where I hid that pack of cigarettes so I can trade 'em up instead of being someone's bitch. I'm no one's bitch. I'm my own bitch, my own singular breed.

But there is one more thing, just one more thing I've thought for a long time but never said, never had the courage to say. One more thing there was never an appropriate time for; one more thing there probably never will be. 

I've got words in my head, lots of words, strung out pink pink blue pink white like a candy necklace on that thin string of elastic that starts out resilient and strong and clean, but once the rings are gone and the words are used up it's grey, and frayed, and wet with spit and really something I'd rather not have to carry around any more. Dumb metaphor, but I've got words in my head, I'm singing to myself, making up baseball statistics 'cause I've heard it helps when you're not ready to come, when you don't want to come, and I don't want to come.

The elevator comes.

I press the button with a hitch-hiker's thumb, remembering where my thumbs have been before. 

Here's the thing.

You look at me like that, and there are still tears in my eyes for everything I don't know, for everything I believe now that I never believed before, for everything I never knew and everything we never said. And I look at you and there are tears in your eyes for everything you always knew and everything you always needed, and I can never, will never tell you, I swear to you, I'll never say it out loud but here, today, I have to own it, I have to own the words; they're mine.

"Why not me?"

Out loud in the elevator. Fuck me, I did it.

And not even why not me like a martyr, not even why don't I bear this weight for you, why can't I suffer instead, why are you the one stuck hiding twenty years of pain under a Yankees victory; tie goes to the runner. Nope. 

Nope. This is why not me like a bitch, like my own special breed of bitch, my own special selfish variety. This is why not me, after all I've been through, after everything I've suffered for you, with you, beside you on long nights and long trips and carsick and seasick and nauseous and exhausted and beat. This is why not me, damn it? Why _not_ me? 

I've suffered just as much; some days I'd say I'd suffered more. I've done just as much, saved your ass just as often, fought the good fight year after year after fucking year.

I'm stronger than you are, damn it! Why not me? I'm pious, I'm learned, I'm brilliant, I'm angry. Why not me? I've stared down evil with a knife at my throat; I've driven way over the speed limit racing, laughing toward impossible triumph after impossible triumph. Why not me? I came to this party willingly and brought a gift, here's to you! Why not me? I was chosen, I was taken, I was infected, I was cured. Why not me? Oh world, I cannot hold thee close enough: why not me? 

Oh Mulder, Mulder, it's lobby time and it's nice outside, beautiful, even. Sunny. Blinding. Why not me? Oh, Mulder, you know how I feel and you know what I want to say to you and you know how much I hate myself for even thinking it, for even wishing it, for pretending I want to unburden you when really I want to burden myself, to show you I can take it, to show them all: why not me?

I'm parked illegally. Why not me?

I've got work to do; lots of work. For both of us, so you can rest. Why not me?

I'm out of here, damn it. I wipe that last tear away with a thumb and I remember where that thumb has been but I'm not going to let myself hate myself for it, and I'm not going to let myself hate you. I would never begrudge you, never, Mulder. It's over; we'll never speak of it again.

But today I had one last thing to say, to get off my chest so we can move forward, so we can move on with everything we've got and we can move on and leave all this bullshit behind. And that was it, here are my wrists, I'm owning it, cuff me, take me away. Or don't, because I'm parked illegally and I've got a shitload of work to do and I've really got to go, 'cause I'm practical, damn it, and that's the way it works.

Inhale. Exhale. Get in the car and drive off.

That was it, Mulder. You were expecting something else?


End file.
